


Auribus teneo lupum

by Eorendel



Series: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Winter Holiday Gift Exchange 2016 [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Deal with a Devil, Demonic Possession, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Protectiveness, Romantic Friendship, Spies & Secret Agents, Supernatural Bonds, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eorendel/pseuds/Eorendel
Summary: Offer:Even when sober Napoleon can make mistakes. He was only human. For a while. He didn't know how or why but it happened, he's not himself anymore and that's and understatement when you are able to see auras and for some reason he distinguishes between Illya and Gaby's scent. And now he has to deal with being a half demon while still trying to cover up his secret to UNCLE. At least he's not alone, he has Illya and Gaby by his side. But for how long? When are they going to realise he's a liability and dangerous? – that thought alone haunts him in his dreams. The only hope is to find that woman again, a woman whose name he can't remember.
"Auribus teneo lupuma" line taken from Phormio (c.161BC), a work by the Roman playwright Terence— it means like "holding a tiger by the tail".





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawkayy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkayy/gifts).



Napoleon could see them. He could feel them. Little black balls of energy with a red hue. He decided to call them wisps. Those wisps were attached or floating around the men that were surrounding him. By this time, although a bit vexing, Napoleon was used to being taken hostage from one reason or another during a mission for UNCLE. At least this time, they weren’t in a warehouse or something similar. They were in a relatively clean hotel room – of course, the kind of hotel that usually dealt with the kind of people Napoleon was dealing with.

A man moved closer to where he was, brushing pass him to another room, and Napoleon shivered. His mouth watered. He felt hungry. Little bit little he was breaking the little control he had over himself. His eyes stung, so he closed them, just to be overwhelmed by the sweet smell the wisps were emanating. He opened his eyes at once, but it was a mistake. His sight had changed, he could fully see the real form of the wisps and the grotesque appearances of the men.

They were disfigured forms, a carcass of what a person should be, in the middle of their chests – where he knew their heart should be – a black void swirled around, sucking in anything that was remotely untainted by darkness.

Napoleon knew his eyes weren’t blue anymore. His muscles were spasming and the tips of his fingers ached with the need to unleash his claws. He was in a world of pain, not because he was changing into the cursed form he acquired months before but because he wanted to eat them all. Rip apart the heart where the swirling void was, feast on the dancing wisps, decimate them all from the earth because it was his calling.

He wasn’t sure for how long he could maintain his composure now that his senses were awoken. Napoleon wondered if this was it, the time when the world and Waverly found out that he wasn’t a human anymore. He wondered what would happen to him. Would he be locked away and experimented on? Would they use him as a weapon – though it wasn’t much difference between that and his current job besides the wage and living conditions. Maybe he would have to leave to a remote location somewhere in the world, probably without the wines he liked to drink, or the food and clothes he was used to buy. Napoleon was truly mourning the loss of his hidden collection of paintings and reserve of Scotch when he felt them.

Napoleon could describe it like tingling sensation on the back of his neck, as if a silver thread was gently pulled in their direction.

‘Maybe I won’t need to live in a shack in the near future.’ Napoleon thought to himself while holding his head down so the men surrounding him would have a harder time to see his eyes – and the fangs that were slowly growing inside his mouth.

All hope vanished when the boss came into the room.

He was rotting.

Black slime dripped from his hands, as he walked inside a trail of black goo bubbled releasing a stenching odour. The wisps that should have been clinging to his body were rings of shadows. The shadows were whispering the things he had done.

 

_Torture._

_Abuse._

_Rape.                                                                                    Kidnapping._

                                _Murder._

                                                                                                                                              _Depravity._

                                                          _Corruption._

Napoleon listened to those whispers, the need to expunge his existence was overwhelming.

The restrains on his hands and feet felt like simple pieces of string. He could tear them up and then attack the men. He had yet tried to measure the extend of his new strength or his capabilities but something deep down, something primal told him he was more than capable enough to kill them all.

And by God how much he wanted to – he wanted to inflict on them the pain they had inflicted on others.

His sharpened senses told him Illya and Gaby were near, but that calming effect was smothered by his instincts.

The straps holding him down broke at the same time two cans of sleeping gas were thrown inside through the window. Among the rising panic of the men, Napoleon stood from his chair, eyes blazing red – he locked eyes with the boss – they both could tell, someone was going to die.

The men began to drop like flies. The whistling sound of Gaby’s sniper bullets cut through the curtain of gas like missiles. Napoleon advanced through it all like in a trance. There was only one objective in his mind. It wasn’t going to end well.

He rushed at the boss – Mario? Mateo? Manuel? Who cares? – finally realizing he was going to die, tried to defend himself by pulling out his handgun. Napoleon was already on him, gripping his wrist twisting it, breaking the bones, popping blood vessels, snapping tendons – a rush of excitement broke through Napoleon’s core.

He wanted more.

Napoleon pushed the boss down while the men around them died in confusion. The man cried in pain when more bones of his body were broken. He struggled weakly at first but when Napoleon’s hand wrapped around his throat applying pressure, little by little, making him frightened beyond anything he had experienced by looking into Napoleon’s eyes while he died.

The shadows and their whispers were disappearing. Napoleon was panting, trembling uncontrollably, he was at the brink of something, he didn’t know what, but it made him both elated and afraid. He didn’t know what could happen to him. He didn’t know anything beside what little information they had found in old books around the world between missions. What would happen to him? Was this another change?

_Two breaths more. Just two breaths more. And everything would change._

Napoleon felt a cold hand on the back of his neck, at first he didn’t know what it was but suddenly he wasn’t at the brink of a change. He was regressing to who he was. He was Napoleon. He was Napoleon Solo. He was Illya and Gaby’s partner. He was theirs. Only theirs. Forever theirs.

Everything went blank.

 

* * *

 

 

In between flashes of clarity, he could hear Gaby and Illya talking.

“Maybe we could say we pushed him from the broken window.” Gaby said.

Illya hummed, “That would explain the broken bones, but what about the claw marks on his neck?”

“Easy, let’s shove him through some window glass, it would be misleading enough.”

“Okay, let’s work.”

Some indeterminate time after, Napoleon could feel himself being hoisted up from the floor. He was deposited on the back of a car, Gaby was already there and she put his head on her lap.

“Why do you have to be so troublesome?” She said, the irritation of her voice a contrast with the way she was petting Napoleon’s head.

Her scent was flowery, sweet and enchanting, still with his eyes closed he turned to her, breathing in, enjoying the soothing moment.

The car rumbled into life and the ride was spent in calm silence.

Their destination was a safe house in the outskirts of the city. It was already past midnight when they reached the place. Napoleon had been lulled into a serene state, so he barely noticed when Illya pulled him out the car and into the house. As soon as his back touched the bed, Napoleon lifted his arms slowly, his senses were being invaded by Illya’s scent. It gave a different kind of soothing from Gaby’s, while Gaby’s was refreshing Illya’s was warm. Like a soft blanket in a winter day, or the embrace of a loved one in hard times.

Napoleon murmured something and Illya replied with, “You do realize I don’t understand whatever demonic dialect you’re talking, right?”

Napoleon himself wasn’t sure what he was murmuring to begin with but he opened his eyes as much as he could and looked at Illya.

“Your eyes are still crimson.” Illya said with a sigh, “I thought that by becoming a demon you would stop getting kidnapped by enemies.”

Napoleon tugged his clothes, saying something both didn’t understand.

“Maybe we should start making a dictionary to decipher what you’re saying each time this happens.” Illya said with a bit annoyance.

Napoleon tugged Illya’s clothes again, his lips parted and with his sultry voice he murmured pleadingly, “ _Illya._ ”

He saw how Illya tensed for a second but stopped himself from smiling.

“I told you to stop doing that.” Illya glared at him, but nonetheless he hovered over Napoleon.

Napoleon tilted his head up and with fake reluctance Illya kissed him. The kiss and the kisses that followed were always slow, tender. Illya liked to nibble Napoleon’s lower lip and Napoleon liked the feel of Illya’s tongue brushing the part he had bitten. He also liked when Illya forgot himself in the moment and touched him like he was his lover. Napoleon didn’t ask for more not because he didn’t want more but because he knew he couldn’t unless Illya was ready. And he had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen for a while.

Time passed in a flash and Illya broke apart from the kiss, he held Napoleon’s jaw in his hand and stared at his eyes.

“Good.” He said, “You’re back to normal.” He climbed off the bed, and Napoleon, “Sleep.” Illya ordered without looking at him. “Tomorrow we are going to discuss what our story it’s going to be when we report to Waverley.”

He left, closing the door behind him without looking back.

After a while, the door opened and Gaby entered the room wearing her pajamas. Without preamble she climbed the bed and covered both with a wool blanket.

“How are you?” Gaby asked, facing him with a serious expression.

“Cursed.” Napoleon replied with a smile.

She punched him. “I’m being serious.”

“So I am.” Napoleon pulled her closer. “I’m cursed and can’t do anything about it.”

“We’ll figure out a solution.” Gaby said, moving until she was in a comfortable position.

Napoleon hummed in response.

“What you told me before…” Gaby began.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?” Gaby asked, and he could feel her uneasiness.

“I won’t lie to you. You’re harder to trick than Peril.” He rubbed her back comfortingly. “I can feel it. It’s getting harder to control. Even when I’m with you two. I bet someday I’m going to sprout horns and a tail.”

Napoleon expected another punch, instead of the feathery kiss Gaby placed upon his lips.

“Then, I guess it’s time to try something more than kisses.” She said regally.

“Are you offering?” Napoleon asked with a raised a brow.

“As a last resort.” She said without missing a beat, “But for now, let’s make Illya loosen up a bit, shall we?”

“You’re going to make him mad.” Napoleon was amused.

“If I have to.” Gaby said with a wicked smile, “After all, you’re not only _his_ and it’s for our best interest in the end. It’s a win-win situation.”

Napoleon stared at her for a moment and said, “Sometimes I wonder who’s the real demon here.”

Gaby grinned, “The world may never know.”


End file.
